


A Noble Waltz

by spiffingtea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, During Dragon Age: Inquisition, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nathaniel (Dragon Age) at Skyhold, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Sebastian (Dragon Age) at Skyhold, Sebastian is Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffingtea/pseuds/spiffingtea
Summary: "Nice Kilt." Nathaniel remarks. Sebastian slowly raises his eyebrow."Nice Griffin." He remarks back, inclining his head at the lightly golden mask that Nathaniel had adorned on his face. As with everything he tended to wear, it was discreet - and elegant.Behind Nathaniel, he hears the elven woman scoff. "Gah, you two." She remarks. Sebastian grins for a moment at her, before glancing down at Nathaniel."May I have this dance, Serah?"~~~Prince Sebastian attends a Ball at Skyhold thrown by the Inquisition. He comes across a familiar face.
Relationships: Nathaniel Howe/Sebastian Vael
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	A Noble Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> I blame @stormchasersteve for the creation of this drabble and the sudden love I have of this rarepair. 
> 
> I've been listening to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAJIMBqlGWo on loop while writing. So reccomend to have it on while reading for best experience. If you have any waltz pieces of music that you think would fit, throw them in below!

Under normal circumstances, Sebastian has a deep dislike for Balls. Too many petty nobles, shuffling around underneath ornate masks, playing up to those they pretend they can't recognise. Oh, those costumed masks they insist on wearing. They're often uncomfortable at best, and suffocating at worst. He's also often plagued with faint memories of his mother berating him for wearing the wrong doublet for the season, or worse - getting caught with one of the servant girls in one of the side rooms. 

Thankfully when he attends them in Starkhaven he mostly has control over what those Balls looked like - or he had the authority to dismiss the need to wear a mask. Literally or no, that wasn't the lifestyle he pledged to follow. Not under the Maker, and not under the Crown of Starkhaven. 

But in Skyhold, none of those rules applied. He was requested to wear a mask and so he did; his seneschal would note this was an opportunity to show face, a good opportunity to build relationships across a smattering of Noble Houses across Thedas, perhaps even other Heads of State or Representatives thereof. 

Sebastian could roll his eyes to himself. He had always detested the ulterior motives of others at these things, and yet he was constantly expected to take advantage of them. He  _ understood _ the nuance, but he did not appreciate it. He hadn't been trained for Court in the same manners that his elder brothers had once been. 

Still, he does his best - to engage in honest conversation, to brush by any semblance of what the Orlesians adored to call The Game, which didn't exist in an official capacity in Starkhaven but certainly left it's muddied footprints, to smile at any person who passed him by, to accept any dance whether it be lady, gentleman, or those that settled in between, and to say thank you to the servants whenever a drink was offered to him. There was a pointed lack of elves in that role this evening, which to some of the upper class would be a point of not too discreetly hushed gossip over the buffet table. Sebastian knew the Inquisitor well enough that it was a status quo they were more than happy to break down under their own hand. Among many others. 

It's partway into the evening by the time he finally spots him; stood off to the sides, deep in conversation with a blonde, female elf. Now that he'd found him Sebastian knew his mind would be preoccupied the rest of the evening, so he opts to wade his way through Nobles and other attendees of the Ball. He sees a few of them trying to catch his eye - Sebastian isn't exactly  _ subtle _ , having worn his ceremonial regalia for the evening, but that was never his intention. 

The Elven Woman spots him before the male does, eyes drawing up to the mask on his face - a simple white, adorned with gold - naturally. He can see her raise an eyebrow at him from underneath her own green mask, engraved with the inscriptions of... Elven? For a moment it reminds him uncomfortably of Merrill. 

The male she’s talking to notes the loss of her attention, and so he turns his own head. Tall, dark and fitted in a surprisingly elegant black tunic embellished in gold around the collar and sleeve cuffs, Nathaniel Howe raises an eyebrow when his gaze meets his. He turns around fully, and Sebastian can feel Nathaniel's gaze drag down his body. The corner of the male's lip stretches into a smirk. 

"Nice Kilt." Nathaniel remarks. Sebastian slowly raises his own eyebrow. 

"Nice Griffin." He remarks back, inclining his head at the lightly golden mask that Nathaniel had adorned on his face. As with everything he tended to wear, it was discreet - and elegant.

Behind Nathaniel, he hears the elven woman scoff. "Gah,  _ you two _ ." She remarks. Sebastian grins for a moment at her, before glancing down at Nathaniel. 

"May I have this dance, Serah?"

Sebastian reaches out a hand in invitation, and Nathaniel pauses for far too long a moment for it to be unintentional. Then, he reaches out and places his hand in his. With a nod and a small smile, no doubt with eyes on them, Sebastian turns around and tucks his hand into his arm, guiding him to the dancefloor as the orchestra finishes their previous song. 

With a sweep from the conductor, the strings ease in the beginning notes of the next song. If one had spent any amount of time in the etiquette of ballrooms (a series of lessons taught to a rather resentful Sebastian when he was a youth), the beginning chords were easily recognisable; they were falling into a slow waltz. They had long descended into the part of evening, afterall, where inebriated nobles and newfound lovers felt sentimental enough to brave their way to the dancefloor. 

Nathaniel steps by his side as smoothly as ever, and turns to face him once they settle to a spot at some point on the dance floor. He tilts his head at him, before sliding hands to rest on Sebastian's shoulders and the tops of his arms. He takes a moment to glance round. "It's been some time since I was in a ballroom."

Sebastian chuckles quietly, carefully placing his own hands against his waist and slipping Nate's other hand into his own. He tangles their fingers. "Really? And here I thought A Grey Warden would be considered a prestigious guest of  _ any _ event."

"Darkspawn aren't exactly willing dance partners." Nathaniel remarks. He nudges Sebastian's foot with his own, urging him to start moving. With a grunt Sebastian steps them into the waltz, slipping in between two couples - one of them a looming qunari, (which he wouldn't lie, had him for a second) with a flustered looking human man. He's certain during a turn he hears a frustrated " _ Chief-- _ " float by him; the other a much slower, clearly very besotted (and drunk) man dancing with a mabari. Sebastian briefly wonders whether he'll suddenly find himself bereft of a dance partner if Nathaniel spots it.

They slowly move their way around the Grand Hall; more couples have squeezed their way in, caught up in the simplicity of what would make for a romantic moment for some, others just wanting to be part of something bigger than themselves. There are enough high profile participants joining that Sebastian feels himself relax. He sees Nathaniel’s smile grow a little at him as his shoulders slacken, and Sebastian gives him a small shrug and smile as they continue to move. 

Sebastian is taller than him, so Sebastian has to duck his head to be heard over the sounds of the orchestra and ruffles of clothing. “You look beautiful.” He murmurs against his ear, cheeks pressing together. Nathaniel would possibly deny it later, but Seb feels the heat rise between their cheeks, and he grins to himself. The shorter man huffs out a small laugh. 

“Rather concerning when you state that while glancing past me,  _ Your Highness _ .”

Sebastian laughs himself at that, pulling his head back to glance down at him. “You got me. I’ve just spotted the Starkhaven fish and egg pie on the buffet table.” 

Nathaniel huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes. Sebastian smirks, and their dance pauses for a moment as Sebastian spins him with practised ease. Nathaniel’s stumbles very slightly as they step back into the waltz, only noticeable to those with a keen eye. Sebastian squeezes his hand as they move, and the Fereldan grunts. 

“You should try doing this backwards.” He mutters. If they’d been anywhere else, he probably would show more embarrassment. Or perhaps if he was  _ with _ anyone else, but Sebastian wouldn’t ever be able to tell that for sure. 

“Who’s to say I haven’t?” Sebastian muses, and looks at him pointedly. This wasn’t their first dance, after all - he recalls the both of them, much younger, much more unwise, stumbling together on some quiet balcony at a formal event in Starkhaven. Nathaniel had been stuffed into some padded doublet which did  _ not _ suit the man, and Sebastian had been dragged by the ear by his mother. He’d spotted Nathaniel, and they’d snuck out together, drinking  _ far _ too much, and Nathaniel had insisted on leading the dance they found themselves joining from outside as he was the elder, and also technically Sebastian’s  _ tutor _ . Not a term Nathaniel was keen to repeat when they’d both stumbled into bed together that night, though. 

Nathaniel’s smirking at him, soft black hair peppered with greys behind the ears, and a scar that had flecked most of the shape of his eyebrow. They’d changed. Those ‘youthful’ days in Starkhaven, when Sebastian had first felt the warmth bloom in his chest as Nathaniel stood just inches too close as he adjusted the bow he was practicing from, his breath tickling his ear. The hours they’d spent sitting on the walls of the Palace Battlements, avoiding their Chevalier and Parents, respectfully, and talking of everything that felt wise to men who were barely out of adolescence themselves. In hindsight, it was just a summer romance - but it is hard for hindsight to tell that to a heart’s first love when they move on one day without so much as a word, disappearing elsewhere in the Free Marches because they were just under someone else’s command. 

He remembers over a decade later, Nathaniel finding him in the Chantry Gardens once they’d rescued him in the Deep Roads; Nathaniel had been so caught up in conversing with  _ Anders _ , Sebastian dealing with the shock that Nathaniel was still  _ alive _ , and a  _ Grey Warden _ no less ---

He remembers how they stood in silence for far too long, practicing archery on the small range Sebastian had managed to get away with constructing in a quiet corner. He remembers opening his mouth to speak, lips about to tumble out words and confessions unknown - and then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and Nathaniel was looking at him ever so sincerely with a  _ It’s good to see you alive, friend. _

“There’s a Mabari next to us.” Nathaniel comments, delight in his voice. It’s Sebastian’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“If I find myself suddenly dancing with the Arl of Redcliffe while you elope with the mabari, I’ll confess I’ll be disappointed. Unsurprised, but disappointed.”

“Mabari are a noble beast.”

“One of the noblest, one that even I cannot best. But I’d still rather have your company for the duration of this dance.” 

Nathaniel gazes at him, and Sebastian returns the look. Nathaniel sighs. “If you insist.” 

Sebastian brushes a thumb against the waist, sneaking a kiss against his cheek as he presses him close for a moment. “And here I thought you couldn’t best saying ‘I love you’ until now.” 

It had taken a look as gentle as any good mother would give, and a hand that had felt just as much insurmountable grief as he had pressing on his shoulder that had Sebastian  _ stunned _ . He  _ was  _ still alive. Still surrounded by flowers and walls and blood in his veins. He was still  _ alive _ , and no demon nor evil force could make it otherwise, not in that moment. And that was  _ good _ , despite the tragedy he’d been walled in by. Not for any ulterior need, or motive. But that he just was. 

No one had ever thought to tell him that, before.

Sebastian looks down at Nathaniel as they spin, feeling the swell of the music lea n into its crescendo. To his surprise, Nathaniel is staring at  _ him _ , with that ever present ghost of a smile. Sebastian should have grown used to the gentle looks of a hardened man, worn down by just as much personal tragedy and trauma as he had himself witnessed, but it still causes Sebastian to stumble as much as any naïve blushing beau. Punctured by so much heartbreak, and yet Nathaniel was still  _ kind. _

“What are you looking at, Ser?” Sebastian mumbles. Nathaniel’s eyes do not move.

“You.” Nathaniel hums, and Sebastian somehow feels enamoured and bashful all at once. 

There’s one more final spin as the orchestra plays it’s notes, and they spin, and spin; circling each other as they had done for much of their life - from friends to summer lovers, to strangers to friends to, well, 

Now.

The spin ends as Nathaniel presses Sebastian close, and Nathaniel’s arms are hooked around his neck, and Sebastian’s are curled around his waist; foreheads pressing, gazing into endless greys and blues. 

Nathaniel tilts his head up and kisses him, that ever present ghost of a smile greeting his own, and Sebastian closes his eyes.

The Maker could not have scorned him, not like this. Not like this.

**Author's Note:**

> There's some characters that make cameos that aren't strictly named; cookie for any that you could! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and I'd love for you to drop a comment <3


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